Chapter 5: What He Needed Her Not to Find
I let it ring.
Darcy watched the phone until it went dark.
Then she said, "He knows we've been pulling records."
"How?"
"Because his lawyer called my office at eight this morning asking what we were looking at." She picked up her own phone and set it face-down.
"That's not a lawyer protecting a client.
That's a lawyer trying to find out how much we know."
"How much do we know?"
"Enough." She stood and moved to the window.
"But not everything.
There's a gap in the money trail between the second transfer and the property deposit.
About eleven thousand dollars that moved somewhere before it arrived.
I have a forensic accountant working on it.
I need two more days."
"And in two days?"
"In two days I can tell you whether what Julian did rises to the level of fraud or whether it's civil only." She turned back.
"The difference matters for what comes next."
My phone lit up again.
Not Julian this time.
Eleanor.
I stared at the name.
Eleanor had never called me directly.
In seven years of marriage, she had communicated with me almost exclusively through Julian, as though I were a department he managed rather than a person she knew.
I answered.
"Sloan." Her voice was composed.
Careful.
The performance of calm.
"I think we've gotten off to a very bad start this morning."
"Eleanor."
"Julian is upset.
He's not thinking clearly.
I'd like to suggest that the four of us sit down somewhere neutral and talk through this like adults."
"The four of us," I said.
"You mean Julian, you, me, and—?"
"And your attorney, if you feel that's necessary.
Though I do think lawyers make these conversations more difficult than they need to be."
"I'm sure you do."
A pause.
When she spoke again, the composure had thinned slightly at the edges.
"Sloan.
I understand you're angry.
But you need to think carefully about what you're doing.
Julian is your husband.
Whatever is in that folder, a marriage is worth more than a legal document."
"Is it worth forty thousand dollars from an emergency fund?"
Silence.
"Is it worth a hotel suite booked seven times under someone else's name?"
The silence stretched longer this time.
"I don't know what you think you've found," Eleanor said finally.
"But I can tell you that things are not what they appear."
"Then explain them to me."
"Not over the phone.
Not with attorneys present.
Just the two of us, Sloan.
Woman to woman.
There are things you need to understand about Julian's situation that he hasn't been able to tell you."
Something in her tone had shifted.
It was no longer the performance of calm.
It was something closer to urgency.
Controlled, but real.
"What situation?" I asked.
"Please.
Just meet me.
One hour.
The café on Hartwell Street.
I'll be there at noon."
I looked at Darcy.
She had heard every word.
She gave me a single small nod.
"I'll be there," I said.
I ended the call.
Darcy was already writing something on a notepad.
"Don't go alone," she said without looking up.
"I wasn't planning to."
"And Sloan." She set the pen down.
"Whatever Eleanor tells you at that café — whatever she says Julian's situation is, whatever explanation she offers — remember that she knew about the property in her name.
She has known this whole time." She looked at me steadily.
"She is not calling you to help you.
She is calling you because she is afraid of what you're about to find."
I picked up my phone.
Julian had called four more times while Eleanor and I were speaking.
May you like
I turned the screen face-down and left it on the desk.
"I'll be back by two," I said.
